Deadwood 2012…a story of a modern Sheriff…

The dusty air was dry and carried the stink of horse mature but Sheriff Seth Bullock didn’t care, he had other things on his mind.

Seth had struggled all his life with the two feelings that drove his temper to flash point: anything he did was never quite good enough for his daddy and a boiling hatred of bullies. Being a peace-officer was a way of addressing both issues. He would never say, of course, he was much too proud to admit such things, not even to Sol Star and he was easily his best friend.

The sound of a gunshot that came from the street was as clear as flash of light on a black night as Seth walked with purpose directly to source-the crowd outside the Gem theatre.

A Sheriff never ran. It does no good for the townsfolk to see a Sheriff run, it made them think he was panicking…and Seth never panicked.

A crowd was seemingly unaware or perhaps uncaring of the danger and buzzed with talk of what had occurred. One man lay on the ground holding his gut, blood seeping from between his fingers-obviously dead, Seth realised it was old Swede… another man stood a few feet away with a pistol in his hand. He looked mean and drunk. He wore a funny looking hat like a stove-pipe, black and dirty with trail crud.

His pistol and belt were clean and looked well used. “Professional”, thought Seth and he became even more alert.

The crowd stepped back as if as one when they saw Seth’s face.

Seth drew his pistol and pointed it at the man with the hat, ”Drop the gun!”, Seth growled.

The man froze and kept the gun down, then turned his head towards him. He did not comply however, simply saying: ”Who’s askin’?”

Seth pulled the hammer back on his pistol, ”Me. Sheriff Bullock! Drop it or go to hell…”

The man smiled, ”been there, didn’t like it…”

In Seth’s mind the rage he felt seemed to slip away and he felt calm again, there would be no talking to this one-he wanted the darkness-Seth prepared himself to give him his wish.

“Before I shoot you, I must ask you one thing”, said Seth.

Stove-pipe allowed a smile to form on his face, “What would that be Sheriff?”

“What is your self-defined ethnicity?”, asked Seth.

The man frowned, “what?”

“What is your self-defined ethnicity? You know, your fucking colour?”, said Seth was becoming angry again.

“Can’t you see Sheriff? Or have you been drinking?”, said the man his smile broadening.

Seth levelled his pistol at the man’s face his angry words almost spat out, “what…is…your…fucking… self-defined ethnicity? you fucking cocksucker!”

“Why do you need that?”, the man suddenly nervous…then he sighed,  “Look Sheriff, I shot this piece of shit and I know I’m a gonna’ hang when the judge gets here or you are gonna kill me quick…so, what the fuck do you want to know something that you can see wi’ yer own eyes?”

“It’s for the crime report”, said Seth, “it will be rejected if it’s not on…”

“What about the killin’?”, said the man…

“The crime don’t matter…unless….”, a cold fear gripped Seth’s guts and his hand reflexly tightened his hold on the .44.

“Unless what?”

“You killed that man ‘cos he is a Swede”

“Yeah I did…he was jabberin’ away in that fuckin’ Swede talk an’ I could’nt think straight. I mean, I was tryin’ to concentrate on my fuckin’ cards! T’aint right to fuckin’ talk Swede…”

Seth was now only a hairs breadth from a killing rage and his finger began to squeeze the trigger…

“Fucking racist crime?!?!”, hissed Seth, “have you ANY fucking idea of how much paper work THAT is now going to take?”

The sound of the gun-shot even made Seth jump and he looked on with surprise mingling with confusion as stove-pipe slumped to the floor dead.

“Fucking Jane Cannery comin’ through!”, said a scummy looking woman pushing her way through the crowd, still holding the smoking pistol in her hand… “Calamity” Jane Cannery walked up to Stove-pipe and smiled. She holstered he pistol and took a swig from the whiskey bottle in her left hand, then burped loudly. ”Oh yeah hit the spot…look at that, right trough the fuckin’ head.” 

Jane wore deer-skins and looked in serious need of a bath…sleeping in alleys drunk out of your face will do that, mused Seth…

“No fucking Swede hatin’ cocksucker is gonna take my fucking drink…”, she looked up and saw Seth, “Sheriff Bullock I am fukin’ glad to see you on this morning, [nodding towards the dead stove-pipe] this fucking cock-sucker took my fuckin’ drink! Then he shot Swede…”

“I know…”, said Seth.

“Yup! Called me a fuckin’ dyke and took my fuckin’ whisky then called me a fuckin’ dyke again!”, she looked very pleased with herself, ”does that mean I’m a fuckin’ lawman now?”. She laughed, ”fuckin’ Sheriff Jane!” 

The crowd laughed too…they stopped when they looked a Seth’s face.

“No it don’t and this (pointing at the two dead men) is no laughing matter! Did you say he hated the Swede?”

“Yes sir!”, said Jane, looking like she was very soon to puke…

“oh that’s just fucking great”, thought Seth now it’s a hate crime…

Seth put his pistol away and looked up into the cloudless sky and a thought occurred to him, “well… I suppose we could write it off now as a racially aggravated assault and add your theft…”

Seth then realised there were TWO crimes here…one being a hate crime…He needed to create two crime numbers, Jane’s was a theft with a hate crime bias and the racially aggravated murder… The only good part of this shit heap was the fact the offender was dead…he could write both crimes off without any interview. Jane could be added as a witness and instrumental in bring to justice a dangerous racist…mmm…might work.

He tuned and walked back towards the jail…it was going to be a long morning..

“Do you want any fucking help sheriff? I’ve done letters..”, called Jane as he walked away.

“No thank you…you’ve done enough”, said Seth.

Jane smiled and waved the bottle at him, sarcasm was wasted on the wasted… “No worries at all sheriff! No fuckin’ worries!”

 

 

 

 

 

Next time…

Seth and Jane visit a school to talk about online bullying…